Crossing Boundaries
by xtwilightzx
Summary: “Wright.” Miles said, his tone so flat it was a statement more than an acknowledgment. “Why are you accosting my door?” Halloween-fic, pre-GS4. PhoenixEdgeworth.


**Crossing Boundaries**

"Wright." Miles said, his tone so flat it was a statement more than an acknowledgment. "Why are you accosting my door?" Halloween-fic.

_Ace Attorney belongs to CAPCOM._

**AN: **Set pre-Apollo Justice, with lawyer!Phoenix.

**start**

Miles needed to find whoever planned, organized and executed the Prosecutor's Office Masquerade and _fire_ them.

The guilty ones not only planned a party over an insignificant holiday, but the hype surrounding the so-called masquerade effectively killed any productivity he could wring from the prosecutors working under him. Solemn faced legal aides, cutthroat lawyers and merciless prosecutors disappeared; in their place were giddy, gossiping teenagers. Miles couldn't rightfully call any of them adults, not with the flirting and unsubtle propositions springing up around the Prosecutor's Office.

An invitation, folded once, edge to pristine edge, sat atop his mail when Miles reached his office two weeks ago. Someone had the gal to highlight – in screaming, unprofessional pink – the entire dress code section: costumes a must; black, white, and orange **only**.

And so on Halloween, Miles promptly checked himself out at six o'clock on the dot and stayed home. It was the principle of the matter, after all.

The pounding of his front door dragged Miles' attention away from the file of his latest case. He listened to the steady pounding – _thud, thud, thud, THUD, BANG_ – and wondered if he could simply bury his head under his pillow and pretend no one was home, but the voice that rose above the open-hand slamming quickly crossed out that idea.

"Mr. Edgeworth! We know you're in. Niiiiick, help us out here!"

Miles closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. And then he went to open the door, because Maya Fey was not a force to be reckoned with.

"Ms. Fey," Miles said, in the aristocratic drawl he used in court, "I'd really appreciate if you didn't break my –"

"TRICK-OR-TREAT!" the Fey girl yelled, before smiling winsomely at Miles, all wide-eyed innocence and hands clasped together. "Come on, Pearly, you say it too."

"Quick retreat?" Pearl Fey said, blinking up at Miles. Her hand crept up and latched on a blue sleeve. "Mr. Nick, we have to leave?"

"I am so sorry, Edgeworth," Wright said, digging one hand through his spikes sheepishly. "Maya, pipe down."

"All right, but there better be candy somewhere in that deal."

"Wright." Miles said, his tone so flat it was a statement more than an acknowledgment. He knew it. If it wasn't some disaster at work, it was Wright haunting his door, bringing with him a package of unwanted feelings and unwelcome thoughts. "Why are you accosting my door?"

"It was Maya," Wright muttered under his breath. "Look, do you have anything sugary? Anything to placate Maya, because you know she won't give up."

Miles crossed his arms. "… I have a box of brandy-laced truffles."

Wright stared pointedly down at Pearl, who asked "ruffles?" in a tiny voice.

"It shouldn't have enough alcohol in it to intoxicate. But… there should be some pralines too. People seem to believe I'm bribable through chocolate."

Ms. Fey grinned. Logically, Miles knew it was the reflective gleam of the porch light, but her eyes seemed to shine with unholy light. "That sounds fancy. I'm up for it!"

Wright knelt and gently untangled the little girl's hand from his suit. "Pearls, Mr. Edgeworth's quite particular about his belongings, so do your best to rein Maya in, okay?"

"Nick!" the elder Fey exclaimed, planting her fists on her hip. "I'm an adult, I can take care of Pearly and myself."

Little Pearl turned to look at each of them in turn. Then, she smiled. "Okay, Mr. Nick. Don't keep Mystic Maya waiting, though."

Miles sighed. "Dining room, down the corridor on your left," he said, and braced himself against the door frame to allow the girls to slip past him.

"Sorry about that," Wright said, rising to his feet and dusting off his knees. His tie was bent at an angle. The battered blue suit had definitely seen better days. Miles felt an urge to just reach forward and fold the tie back in line, neatly pressed down. "Pearls never celebrated Halloween before, so Maya's hell-bent on going trick-a-treating."

"They're not even in costumes."

Wright gave a half-shrug. "The Kurain channeling robes are pretty costume-y on their own." He smiled suddenly. "It's rare for you to be home early."

Miles raised an eyebrow and tapped a finger against his chin. "And somehow you are familiar with my movement patterns."

"Well. Everyone knows that Miles Edgeworth spends more time in his office than in his own home. That, and the fact that I can never reach you through the landline before ten in the evening."

Miles drew himself upright, fixed his cuffs and half-turned. "If you must know, Wright, I'm working at home. And I have a case file waiting, so if you'll excuse me –"

Miles felt a hand settle on his shoulder and froze. He glanced backwards. Something lurked under Wright's blue-eyed gaze, a swirl of emotions that made the bottom of Mile's stomach drop.  
_  
__No more life-changing revelations. No one is allowed to simply swoop back into another's life and turn it upside down like this!_

"Edgeworth. It's Halloween. When did you last reach home before seven?" At Mile's stony silence, Wright pressed on. "Take a night off for yourself. Everyone needs a break."

"I am hardly 'everyone', and you're hardly one to talk, with your erratic case-taking history." Miles really wished Wright would remove his hand. He longed to twitch away, even bat the hand right off, but this was _Wright_… and he owed the man a lot.

Wright tightened his grip, his fingers squeezing gently. "You might as well give up, Edgeworth." A squeal of delight, followed by a distant "Mystic Maya!" echoed down the corridor. "You'll never get any work done with Maya around the house."

A loud thud from the direction of the living room underscored Wright's words. "Fine," Miles conceded. He knew how to give in when the evidence worked against him. A grin spread over Wright's face, as if Miles had given him the moon instead of simple concurrence. "… what are you grinning about?"

"We've been standing on your porch for a good twenty minutes. Isn't it about time you invited me in?"

"Once again, you make assumptions about the privileges extended towards you, Wright." But he gestured Wright into the house anyway and stalked towards the dining room with Wright trailing after him like a puppy.

"I don't suppose you have a pumpkin," Wright asked, hooking one finger in his tie and loosening it with a sharp tug.

"And what would I do with an entire pumpkin?"

"Turnips? Rutabaga? Squash, even?"

"… I have some turnips in the chiller."

"Great!" Somewhere along the way, Wright had shed and abandoned his suit jacket somewhere, and was rolling the sleeves of his button down up. "Time to get carving, then. And you're going to participate, Edgeworth."

Miles thought to protest, the familiar "objection" poised on the tip of his tongue, but Wright's roguish smile stopped him. It reminded Miles of those brief months of friendship back in grade four, when the other two will badger and bother until Miles stuck a bookmark in book and trailed after them.

He watched Wright flex his fingers, his head tilted at an expected angle, his face an open book of emotions: eyes, steady and stubbornly unmoving, the half-quirked smile that said _I know you won't agree, but I'll try anyway_ and against all that, Wright's body language, his loose-limbed, relax stance, neither pressing nor back away.

Miles reached up and unbuttoned the cravat around his neck. And then he turned, never breaking his gaze from Wright's, and said "fine, Wright," just to see those blue-eyes widen and Wright's entire face light up.

**end**

**AN:** Con/crit and feedback is much beloved, as always.


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